


Christmas Snow

by Icecat62



Category: due South
Genre: Budding Romance, F/M, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icecat62/pseuds/Icecat62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser muses about Christmas in the past and present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to RedSuitsYou@egroups.com - December 2000.

Walking out of the den, Fraser made his way to the back door. Stepping out onto the porch, he stared out at the fresh snow that coated the ground like a blanket of white. His chest constricted tightly as he thought of another porch that he use to stand on and stare out at the snow. Every Christmas he would pull his coat and mittens on and stand out on the porch to wait for his father to come home. At least he would stand there until his grandmother felt he was out there long enough.

Resting his head against a post, he closed his eyes, trying to imagine his father walking down the path to the cabin carrying a bag full of toys and an actual Christmas turkey like the one he read about in 'A Christmas Carol'. He was lucky if his father showed up a day or two after Christmas. More often than not, the only reminder that he had a father was a card with an emotionless Christmas greeting. One that you would give to an acquaintance and not a son that you loved.

Each Christmas that passed him by, he felt another piece of him being whittled away. The small remnants of Christmas love from his mother were slowly fading away. Clenching his hands into fists, he tried to remember the sound of her voice as she sang carols as they decorated a tree. It was always a small evergreen or fir when she was alive. After she died, he was lucky if his grandparents put up a bush or anything for that matter.

He jumped as a hand rested on his arm.

"Frase, why aren't you inside? Ray's gettin' ready to make the toast."

Francesca looked him in the eyes like she always did. She never shied away from anything. Just like his mother. Cocking his head to the side, he looked down at her. For the first time, he saw the resemblance. Small and delicate, the two woman both had strong spirits. They both found the bright spots where there was only darkness.

She gave him a sad smile. "You miss your family don't you?"

"How did you..."

"Frase...it's Christmas. This is the time of year when you miss the people that you know you'll never see again. My pop may have been a bum, but for some reason whenever Christmas rolls around...I miss him." She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I know you miss your mom and dad, but you have...us."

She smiled up at him, the hopeful look in her eyes was unmistakable. He knew what she meant. He had her if he wanted. All he had to do was ask. All he had to do was wrap his arms around her, say he loved her and she would be his forever. Someone that would be there for him. Someone to love again. He could feel the warmth spread through his soul. Taking her by the hand, he smiled back. "It feels good to know I have...family."

The door opened spilling golden light out onto the back porch. Sounds of laughter and happy voices mingled with the scent of cookies and candles.

"So that's where you two are! Get in here! I wanna' make the toast and Ma won't let me if everyone's not here."

Grabbing Francesca by the arm, Ray pulled her away from Fraser and into the kitchen. 

Sighing, Fraser smiled slightly and followed her into the warm embrace of the Vecchio home. It was Christmas Eve, a time to remember and reflect. He had all night to think about what he wanted and what he was about to do. Francesca was going to find something more on Christmas morning than a small gift wrapped in silver foil. She was about to get what she asked for ever year from Santa. A red serge wrapped Mountie.

END


End file.
